Tangible Phantoms
by PBContessa
Summary: An S3 fic, where Sydney talks to Vaughn the way he talked to her ghost. She didn’t know she thought his image was a desperate concoction of loneliness and vodka. But he was there, his presence was very real. She needn’t know that.


Title: Tangible Phantoms  
Author: BristowBoyscout545 (I'm thinking of changing my name to something shorter) or Tess  
Genre: Angst, but a little fluff. Well, not really fluff….whatever it is, its there  
Timeline: S3  
Summary: She didn't know; she thought his image was a desperate concoction of loneliness and vodka. But he was there, his presence was very real. She needn't know that.  
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, and the lyrics belong to an awesome group Short Term Victory. The lead singer/lyricist is an old friend, and the song I used was "Our Fading Formalities" which you can check out here.I know Emo/Screamo might not be your type of music, but it fits the story, and I love it.  
A/N: I wrote this a while ago, but never typed/posted it because I was disappointed with the result. It wasn't as powerful as it needed to be in my mind, but I re-read it today and thought, well, why not? So here it is.  
Dedication: As always, to Tine and Jim. And I guess thanks to my muse for behaving.

Tangible Phantoms  
_I'm tired.  
She looked at me.  
I never would have thought  
She'd leave with a piece of me. _

"You're late." She accused, the words slurred and forced as though they were trying to escape being dragged into the silence. He stood in the hall, his face darkened with shame as he saw her condition. He slowly crossed to stand beside her, and then crouched, his sorrowful face level with hers.

"You usually come after half a bottle. I've already had most of it."

His attention turned to the slick glass bottle taunting him from the table before them. He felt sick as he realized that it was over three-fourths gone, its disgustingly clear contents offering a shady promise of blissful stupor. It sat there, lording over him, jeering cynically,_ "See what you've reduced her to?"_

_I'm broken  
Left alone  
Where do I go  
When this house is not a home?_

Lay it all out  
Its all there  
Took it all  
So unfair

He ripped his gaze away from the wicked object, turning to look upon the face of the beautiful and broken girl that sat beside him.

"I miss you." she declared softly, the gentle anguish in her voice causing an icy pain to sear through his body. Yet he welcomed it. It was the reason for his visits. He remembered the first time; that rainy Tuesday night that had started it all, addicted him to this intoxicating drug: guilt. It consumed him, strangling what deteriorating strands of life were left in his body and eating away at every other emotion his head was trying to force his heart to emit. He had accidentally taken the disk with the report she was constructing instead of his own, and after his hockey night, was returning it to her. He knew he should have called, and he regretted his dismissal of this formality as his knuckles collided with the sturdy surface of her front door. No answer.

But he had seen the lights through the curtained window, the active shadow informing him that she was here. Rain pelting the concrete around him, he rapped once more on the wood that barricaded her in from the world. Or the world out from her. Once again, she offered no reaction to his arrival. Cautiously, he turned the slippery golden knob, granting himself entry and leaving the world's side to join hers, the universe tilting ever so slighting at this added resistance. His heart broke, the pieces shattering and falling to the shiny wooden floor beneath his feet, the sound resonating through the silence. She sat there before him, that wretched bottle clutched in her right hand.

_What did you say?  
Say to me  
What did you say to me late that night,  
What did you say?_

Because I need this  
More than you  
Why won't you let me in tonight? 

She had assumed that he was what she had been to him, an apparition; the embodiment of her desperation. And so, every week, at the same time, he met her here and did what he could not while she was lucid, protected by those impenetrable walls she built; _talk_ to her. She was so broken, he knew he couldn't repair her, but he could do one thing; match her pain. By listening to her, seeing her fragile and tragic state, he was destroying himself, the only way he could think to help her. He couldn't save her, but he could burn with her. So they sat for hours, and he would let her break down, tear away her contented façade and reveal her true agony. She didn't know; she thought his image was a desperate concoction of loneliness and vodka. But he was there, his presence was very real. She needn't know that. Nor anyone else. Weiss, Lauren, they both thought he was playing hockey. But he had forsaken the rink nearly a month ago, abandoning one of the monotonous activities formed during his empty marriage to revel in despair with the woman beside him. Sydney.

_I'll never forget the things that you say  
I was caught in the way  
You never saw me there_

Feeling so lost and all alone  
Living in this broken home  
You never saw me there

Letting her words rip him to pieces was the only way he could think to attempt to soothe her wounds. If he suffered enough, damned himself to a half-life of misery inflicted by the grief of his actions, then she would be righted. He hated how shut out from her he had become, how they could never just _be_. But now they could, this sadistic glass bottle providing the necessary weakening in their defenses that allowed them to be honest with each other. It helped that she didn't think he was there. He watched as she poured another glass of the clear liquid that she clutched like it was her lifeline. Then again, maybe it was.

"I like this house, I do, but it's not home." she confessed, looking up at him with soft amber eyes.

"With Will, and Francie…and you…that was home." Her eyes lit up, shining with the memories of a time when happiness didn't come from the burn a bitter transparent fluid created as it slid down her throat.

"I miss that too." he uttered truthfully. Silence hung in the air, a moment to mourn the past.

_Quiet  
Don't scream out loud  
I know it's hard  
To be for now_

What did you say?  
Say to me  
What did you expect  
Me to believe? 

"But it's not enough, is it? I'm not enough." She looked away, tears clouding her eyes. She downed half a glass of vodka, trying to keep them at bay by distracting her body with other painful actions. She would no longer cry in front of him, not even a distorted hallucination.

"Syd." he breathed, the guilt that he desperately craved coming back, flooding his brain and heart so that it was all he knew.

_covered these scars  
Forget about it all_

Because I need this  
More than you  
Why won't you let me in tonight?

"If I could kiss away every tear, hold you until all the pain went away, I would Sydney." He was pleading with her, fully understanding that his confessions would be nothing but foggy echoes tomorrow morning. _"Because you're a coward."_, jeered an angry voice in his head. _"You tell her all of this now, but what will it be to her later? NOTHING."_

Sydney was thinking the same thing.

"Words mean nothing, Michael, it's what you do that matters." She hiccupped slightly before adding, "And you're probably doing Lauren right now."

She gulped down more of the alcohol, coughing at its acrid sting.

"No more." he said firmly, indicating, with his stare, the bottle that was destroying her slowly. He didn't dare reach out and stop her physically, afraid of shattering the illusion. She glared at him, but pushed the cool glass pillar away from her all the same. Then, her expression softened, a forlorn and exhausted mask of defeat formed by her delicate features.

"I don't hate her, Vaughn, I just…..I can't help but wonder. If I hadn't been taken…would we…would I be your wife?"

_Yes._ his heart screamed, but his lips remained silent, wallowing in regret. She reached for the bottle again.

"No" he said, this time more firmly. She looked at him reproachfully, then stared down at the carpet.

"I'm falling, Vaughn. Nothing's the same, nothing feels right, there's no one to turn to." She looked up at him. She was so lost, and he couldn't find her, she was drowning and he couldn't reach her. 

_I'll never forget the things that you say  
I was caught in the way  
You never saw me there  
Feeling so lost and all alone  
Living in this broken home  
You never saw me there_

"You have me." He was trying to offer her consolation, catch her before she hit the ground, but he knew it was weak.

"You? You…you're not even real, you're just proof of how desperately pathetic I've become." The tears were ready to fall, waiting to spread their corrosive contents into the world.

"What about the real me?" he questioned softly. She looked at him incredulously.

"The real you wishes I had died in that fire." Her words scorched him with wicked tongues, their harsh impact causing his own tears to emerge.

"How can you think that?" he whispered, his speech drawing her gaze. She was so beautiful. And she was so alone.

"How can I not? My coming back ruined your life." This was so wrong, how could he have lead her to believe that he could despise her existence, when all he desired was her; her essence, the entirety of her being.

"Your return didn't make my life empty, Sydney, just made me realize that it was." His voice shook with earnest, his need to explain this to her causing him to momentarily forget that none of his words would be remembered this time tomorrow.

_I'll never forget the things that you…  
I was caught in the way  
Not smart enough  
I don't try enough  
A disappointment in your eyes_

What did you say to me?  
So blind can barely see  
What's out that door

She shook her head slowly.

"I need to move on, to stop loving when I can't anymore." She ran a hand over her itching and tired eyes.

"But giving up on you would be giving up on the only thing that makes me feel alive." She let out a long sigh, the weight of her situation stacking and threatening to crush her. Then she stared into his eyes and his heart stopped at her words.

"Maybe I don't want to live anymore." He searched those eyes he had dreamt about for what he knew was there. It was buried, almost irretrievable, but it was there. The light was still there.

"Sydney, I need to tell you something." She moved away, startling him.

"No." She looked down.

"I can't hear you say those words and wake up tomorrow knowing that you weren't ever here."

"Sydney, please." She graced him with a small upward glance.

"You mean so much to me. Seeing you this way…knowing that I did this…I just need you to know I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sydney. I've let you down. I haven't been there for you when you've needed me. And I'm so sorry." Those stubborn tears were finally released and they fell, one after another, their salty texture burning the back of her hand as she wiped them away. She let out a small choked sob, leaned against the couch, and gently slipped out of consciousness. Her breathing was now deep and steady, and he no longer had to worry about the contact informing her of the truth.

_I'll never forget the things that you say  
I was caught in the way  
You never saw me there_

Feeling so lost and all alone  
Living in this broken home

He lifted her into his arms, carrying her like a small child. He held her tenderly against his body and walked to her bedroom. He knew he should set her on the bed beneath the comforter as he always did, leaving her with distant illusions and lonely desires, but instead, he found himself atop the blankets, cradling her in his lap. The movement jostled her slightly, and her eyes opened. He could see confusion in her tired brown irises as she reached up to touch his face, her fingertips grazing his chin. Her brow wrinkled in sudden realization.

" But…" he shifted so that her head was resting on her shoulder, quieting her with a melancholy, "Shh…someday."

Someday they would face the truth about what had taken place. Someday he would tell her that he meant every word of it. But for now, he would rock her gently back to sleep, one last night in the role of silent guardian.  
_You never saw me there._  
Fin.  
So, what do you think? My first fic w/out an SV baby girl!


End file.
